The Kiss 313 One Shot
by Jayce Gish
Summary: A one-shot to accompany THAT photo of Rick and Kate released by ABC on Friday, 12/03.


**Okay, I had to write something about THAT photo, the one that I glanced at while driving North on the 405 on Friday, yelped at with pure delight, and almost rear-ended the Jaguar in front of me. (I know, I shouldn't use my cell phone while driving, but it had been a really bad day [stupid criminal threatened me in front of the judge - not his best day, either] and I needed a Castle fix. And, oh boy, didn't I get one!**

**Comments are appreciated. I've got a thick skin (not to mention a thick skull); let me have it if you hate this. It just kind of escaped, despite my intentions to post another new story that I've had in draft format for almost 2 months. This is a one-shot only. **

**Usual Wordy Disclaimer: have no inside knowledge of the episode, and Andrew W. Marlowe, for some unknown reason, has yet to hire me to write the script for this season's finale, so I own nothing (It's all ABC and Marlowe, dang nab it!). Hope you enjoy this.**

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That Kiss 3-13

The night had been too long in passing for Detective Kate Beckett and dawn was still at least a good two hours away. The woman in the drivers seat put down her third cup of coffee in that many hours, unable to look at it any longer, and unwilling to hold it any longer, let alone take the final three sips of the now cold concoction.

Kate opened the door of the car that the pair had been sitting in for over the past three hours. "I need to stretch my legs," she said, either addressing herself or her companion sitting in the passenger seat, as she opened her door and stepped out into the parking lot that was located across the street from their intended target. The interior lights of the Crown Victoria had been turned off since before they had arrived at their present location, so if anyone was watching from the building across the street, they probably wouldn't have noticed the tall woman as she gracefully emerged from the Crown Victoria, tugging on belt of her long coat to keep herself warm.

Although he had not been directly addressed, without any comment, the man sitting in the passenger seat of the unmarked police car also opened his door and exited the vehicle, closing his door as silently as she had closed hers.

Kate had pretty much expected him to do that. They were often in sync with one another, even finishing the other's sentence: why shouldn't they both decide to stand and stretch their legs at the same time? Usually time spent with her omnipresent shadow, Richard Edgar Castle, passed quickly; however, this all-night stakeout was different. Beckett was uneasy, unable to settle down and simply allow herself to observe. Her mind was going at it, with constant, random thoughts occupying her brain. Not only was she unable to turn them off, she really didn't want to. There was too much riding on her, on the pair of them finding their target, the latest discovered possible link to connect them with the unknown killer who ordered the murder of Kate's mother almost fourteen years ago.

They were both standing in silence, their hands in their coat pockets. The evening was cool, but not cold, and a slight mist had fallen on the windshield of Kate's car, but the weather could not be considered rainy in any aspect of that word. It was just a slightly damp night in New York City, like most late Autumn nights on the Eastern seaboard, but Kate had too much riding on this stakeout. And the man standing on the opposite side of the car knew it.

Kate had spent the entire last five hours of their observation time on edge, wondering if the next car would stop at the brownstone they were watching, or if the next person walking down the street might pause at the entrance and then somehow signal to the building's inhabitants that they wanted to enter. If this was to happen, Beckett would have sprung from the car, gun in hand, calling on her radio for the backup units in the vicinity, and demanding entry into the brownstone. In the course of the past few hours, multiple cars, trucks, SUVs and vans had slowed down in front of the building, but no one had either parked nor left their vehicle. In addition, the people strolling with their dogs, and several couples, arm in arm, had all simply walked by.

And Kate had tensed up as each one approached, and then harmlessly passed.

And he could feel her tension increasing as the evening had advanced.

Richard Castle had spent a good portion of the last two, no, make that almost three years of his life observing Detective Kate Beckett. If the truth was to be told, presently it was his favorite pastime, more so than playing laser tag with his daughter, or even writing (and rewriting) another of his best selling murder novels. As a famous writer and renowned playboy, Rick Castle had reinvented his personality yet again, and for maybe the fourth time in his life (the first being the birth of his daughter, and the other two being the divorces from both of his former wives), he was presently living in the real world, rather than a world of his own making, and he couldn't be more satisfied. He was handsome, talented, very rich, and usually had to fight off the ladies. However, his life had become a series of social events and meaningless trysts, occasionally interrupted by book signings or a quick trip to London to attend yet another opening of a play in the theatre district, then a quick jet home to New York in time for the next fund raiser, or for the next book signing. He had grown bored with his pampered lifestyle, and his writing had reflected that fact. He had gone as far as killing off his main character, but he hadn't found a replacement for his creation until Detective Kate Beckett had crossed his path. And, that was that.

Yet, Kate Beckett was different: She hadn't fallen for any his corny pick-up lines, often threatened to shoot him with her gun when he let his adolescent personality rise to the surface, and made it clear that she was in charge and he was to follow orders: her orders. Not that he did that, with any regularity, but he was usually quite content in allowing her to fill the role of the alpha female, while he observed as the lesser member of her pack, her all-male pack, and he, in turn, had made her, or a thinly disguised version of her, the center character of his latest series of crime novels.

And, after tailing the Detective for almost three years, he had finally learned when to shut up. There was something obsessing his Kate (not that he would ever describe her so out loud if she was within earshot, or those shooting threats might prove to be real). Rick absolutely knew that, at this moment, his usual endless stream of conversation would not be appreciated, nor improve the mood of Beckett. She was wound way too tight, and it was getting worse and becoming very obvious to them both as the night continued.

Still, he was surprised when Kate walked around the front of the car and approached him, standing less than three feet away from him, face to face. Usually she preferred to be by herself and work things out on her own. This was something different. And he was not sure how to respond should she ask him a question: be flip, be serious, or just nod? And, if he was to nod, should he do so dumbly or with great purpose?

She wasn't looking at him, but staring at the asphalt under their feet as she advanced another step and came within two feet of where he was standing.

The silence, especially to a talker like Castle, was deafening. "Kate?" The taller man paused, simply trying to let her know that he was there for her should she need a sounding board, no matter what she was trying to piece together in her mind.

Kate had found herself becoming more and more discouraged. After thirteen years, and one near-miss only some months ago, she was realizing that she had, again, crossed the line of reason and was re-entering the zone of self-absorption and obsession, when she could only narrowly function as an officer of the law when focused on her own personal tragedy. As this became clear to her over the course of the last fifteen minutes, as she felt herself nearing the edge of the cliff she had stood on those many years ago, she had found herself walking toward her partner as if on an automatic pilot. She wasn't even sure why she was doing this. All she knew was, that for some reason, she just needed to be physically near him.

Once again, he softly spoke to her, his voice deeper and gentler than usual. He was on unfamiliar ground, and he was trying to be both adult and supportive, two traits that, when applied to the female of the species, he knew he had little past success in achieving.

He cleared his throat. "Ahem." There was no response from the beautiful brunette. "Kate, talk to me. Please talk to me."

He tried to insert a little humor. "See, I said 'please'."

He expected her to shake her head in refusal. To his surprise, she took another half step closer toward him and lifted her head.

It was then that he saw the single tear on her left cheek. Without thinking about where they were, or who he was with, he reached out with his thumb to brush it away, just like he had done when his daughter was younger. It was a simple automatic gesture on his part: but this wasn't a six year-old Alexis Castle who had fallen off of her roller skates and skinned her knees; this was a fully mature detective of the New York City Police Force, his partner, but that didn't register as he made contact with her face and brushed away the single tear.

He tried again. "Kate. . ."

This time, she shook her head, and what she had been holding back overcame her defenses, and she again looked down at his feet.

"Castle, what are we doing here? No, what are you doing here? Hell with it, what am I doing here?"

His reply was soft. "You're doing your job."

She refused to look up at him. "I'm not doing my job. If I was doing my job, I wouldn't be this emotional mess, I would be in control of my thoughts, not trying not to cry, and I certainly wouldn't be standing outside of my car in full view of the target. I'm too close to this. Captain Montgomery was right, it was a mistake for me to insist on being part of this investigation."

It was Castle's turn to take a half-step toward her, bringing their bodies close enough to touch if that had been their intention.

"Kate, stop being so hard on yourself. If the Captain thought you couldn't do this, he would have told you so and removed you from the case. He knew that you could perform your job. Heck, he didn't even object when I offered to accompany you . . ."

Kate suddenly put her right hand on his left forearm. "You shouldn't be here."

"Where else would I be?"

"You shouldn't be here," she repeated. "My former partners have all left me; my father maintains such a distance that he has basically left me; my boyfriend has his interests and his work and we never see each other, so he's pretty much left me, too; and, as we both know, my Mom has left me. Everybody leaves. I guess it's your turn next."

It was too much for Castle. Maybe he was still too far into his "Alexis is hurting" mode so he didn't consider the possible result of his next actions. He took her chin in one hand and forced her head upwards, so she had no choice but to look directly in his deep blue eyes as he stared into her green ones.

If anything, his voice was softer, yet more commanding than she had ever heard it before. "Katherine Beckett, hear me out, because I will only say this once. I will be here, at your side, until you tell me, no, really tell me to go away. And even then, I probably will ignore your wishes. And then ignore them yet again should you repeat that thought. Until both of us know that you mean it, and really mean it, only then will I leave you. So, get used to me. I'm here, and I am not going anywhere." He took another half step toward her. "Kate Beckett, you're stuck with me, so accept that fact. I want to be here. I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand me? Do you understand what I am trying to tell you?"

That was when she slowly nodded at him, and he leaned in and kissed her. He knew that this wasn't Alexis, that this wasn't a casual act between two partners, nor was it an act between two individuals who were merely friends. This was something more, and as she responded, her lips meeting his with an increasing pressure, he knew that they both realized that they had entered a new chapter in their relationship.

His other hand slowly reached around her waist and drew her closer to him. All he knew was that her lips felt so right against his, her body fit against his and felt so warm, and he knew that he wanted to protect her and to claim her as his.

She only knew that he was going to be there for her. She had tried to scare him off. And, he called her bluff. And then, he kissed her. And, she kissed him back. It wasn't planned: it was real. Yes, for the fourth time in his adult life, Rick Castle was doing "real". And, he was doing it with Kate Beckett. And, they both liked the feeling of each other's body and lips against theirs.

Neither of them wanted to separate from each other. It was apparent that they were two parts of a single entity. They would stay in their own little world for a few more seconds, treasuring the feeling and the physical closeness, before they separated and returned to reality, the cold, the mist, and the night.

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**Again, reviews appreciated. This is a one-shot only.**


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